My Name is Arthur
by Innray
Summary: This is To Kill A Mockingbird from Boo's perspective! Not for school, but ah well. R&R please! Not too many flames. Starts in chapter eight and goes through the end of the book. NOT BASED OFF THE MOVIE! Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_((Some of the events might not be right chronologically, like Mrs. Radley's death and the snow. Sorry!))_

"Stop!" I gasped. Nathan released me and then shoved me against the wall. "Just stop, Nathan! You ain't Father!"

"I'm followin' Father's rules though! Rules like: Arthur ain't allowed to leave the house. Pleasure is sinful." I groaned. "Arthur, you broke both of those rules!"

"What's it matter, Nathan?" He pushed me down, and I landed with a thud on the floor. "Stop!"

Nathan had discovered I'd been leaving little things in the knothole of one of our trees for them Finch kids. Watching them play and mature, and leaving them small presents in the tree had been what got me into this mess. I did have to go outside after all, to put things into the tree.

"What is the matter with you, Arthur? Two rules! And you manage to break 'em both within, what? A week? Two weeks?" I didn't answer, just pushed myself up and started upstairs. "Hey! Get back down here!" Even though I knew it would kill my little-used voice to do so, I shouted back.

"You know what, Nathan? I'm done listenin' to you! You ain't Father, and you never will be!" I would've continued, but my throat was raw just from the small 'conversation' with him. He stopped on the bottom step, too shocked that I actually responded to him. I continued down the hall to Mother's room, stopping briefly at the door to wave hello. She just gave me a look, and I could read everything written in that look. _Boy, you and your brother are too old to be carryin' on like that, what'll the neighbors think? And you ought to know better then break your father's rules! _Her expression softened into pity for just a moment. Pity for what, my life? For being the neighborhood creep? She helped cause all this! Angrily I turned on my heel and stormed to my room. Thirty-seven and still living with my mother. On top of that, my room looked like a fifteen year old still lived in it.

I heard noises from outside, and went to the window and pulled the shade aside just a smidgen. The Finch children were outside, looking up at the sky as if they'd never seen it. I craned my neck around and saw that the sky was gray, with white flakes falling from it. _Snow?! In Maycomb? _Part of me wished I was a child again, so I could romp with my old friends in the slush that covered the ground. Jem, the boy, turned and reprimanded his sister for something. She started walking in his footprints. They paraded around the yard for a bit, catching the snow on their tongues and laughing. I almost laughed, then quickly fled the window to land on my back on the bed, looking sulky. Nathan came in moments later.

"Bo-_Arthur! _Something's wrong with Mother!" Quickly, I got up and followed him back to her room. She was slumped in her chair, her head lolling on her chest.

"Call the doctor, Nathan." I managed to whisper out. He just looked at me.

"We don't have a phone, idiot."

"Go get the doctor, then!" He ran out of the room. I held one of Mother's hands, and she raised her head to look at me.

"Nathan..." she muttered. Of course.

"No, Ma, it's me, Arthur! Your _other_ son."

"Boo...?" _What? How does she know that?_

"Yeah, sure Ma, its Boo," I told her, hating myself for using the name. "Just don't talk, Ma, just sit tight. Hold on." I rose, lifted her up, and, staggering, carried her onto the bed. Nathan came back in, out of breath, with Mr. Finch and the doctor. I silently left while they descended to the bed. I went to my room and watched Jeremy and Scout build... something in their yard. I watched them with tears silently flowing down my cheeks.

_((So... What d'you think? R&R, and this will be updated soon! Sorry again about the chronological issue...))_


	2. Chapter 2

That night, Nathan shook me awake. "Th' neighbor's house is on fire, I'm going over to help! I swear, if I see you out of this house..."

"If you hadn't woken me up, that wouldn't be an issue!" I replied to his retreating back, but he acted like he didn't hear. I followed him quietly down the stairs and waited at the landing for the sound of the door shutting before I continued to the window. I sat in my chair and watched as Mr. Finch led Scout and Jeremy to our gate, telling them something. Then he left and they waited, away from the fire. Scout appeared to be panicking about something, but after Jeremy got her settled down again, they both went back to watching and shivering. I began to feel bad for them, and went upstairs. Taking a blanket from my bed, I changed my mind and took one from Nathan's instead. About time I got at least a bit of revenge, even if it is a tiny amount. I went back downstairs and quietly slipped out into the dark. I softly went behind Scout and, without her seeing me, wrapped Nathan's blanket around her. She grabbed at it and pulled it closer around herself. She never even turned around! I saw Mr. Finch watching me, and I left. Quietly congratulating myself on going unseen, I went back upstairs and back to sleep.

--

The next morning, Nathan was_ livid_. Apparently, my late night thievery hadn't gone unnoticed. I woke to him yelling his fool head off.

"ARTHUR RADLEY! GET _DOWN_ HERE!" _What did I do to get such a kind, respectful brother? Absolutely nothing. I was just blessed with him from the minute I was born._

"Morning, Nathan. Any coffee left?" I peered into the pot, trying to appear nonchalant. Inside, I was shaking.

"Heard you went for a stroll last night."

"Really?" I poked around in the cupboards, trying to find something suitable to eat. No squirrels for me, no matter what Stephanie Crawford says. "Yer going to have to go t' town, Nathan. Out of bread." He exploded. Well, not really, but he came pretty damn close. Bit too close.

"Arthur! Do you _ever_ listen? Thought I made myself clear! Did you _not _hear me say that you stay in the house? That doesn't mean you stay in the house, then go out when I'm out! It doesn't mean that you go out at night. Arthur. Stays. _In_. The. House!" He was very angry.

"Don't really see what the problem is. Went out 'cause that Finch girl looked frozen. Didn't talk to anyone." He looked like he was trying to form words, but no sound came out. Finally he just got up and stalked upstairs. I sat at the counter and read the paper while eating breakfast.

I'm not a bad man. I don't eat squirrels, I don't eat cats. Never looked in Miss Crawford's window (even back in my gang's glory days, we didn't). I don't have yellow nails and bloodstained teeth. I'm not crazy. My name isn't Boo, its Arthur. _My name is Arthur._ I'm not stupid. Personally, I think squirrels are annoying and cats are okay, as pets. Miss Crawford is just a loudmouth gossip who should keep her nose out of other families business. I have normal nails and regular teeth, not black but dark brown hair, and the only part of me that might be considered scary is my extreme paleness. And I _loathe_ the name Boo.

Someone knocked at the door, and instinctively I rose to see who it was. I wasn't going to answer the door or anything. I was just curious to see who it was. Nathan was standing at the door when I got there. He whirled around and shook his head.

"Nath-" He made a shushing gesture. From outside, I could hear someone shouting about a mad dog, and we shouldn't go outside. I desperately wanted to watch to see what would happen, but when I tried to go around him he moved so he was in the way. We continued on like that for a good five minutes, then I decided to just watch at the window. We tussled soundlessly to see who would have the better vantage point of sight (which would be my chair) and he won. I knelt next to the chair and watched as Mr. Finch and Heck Tate pulled up in the Sheriff's car. Heck had a rifle. They set up near the Finch's porch, and with a jolt I realized the dog must be in front of our house. Slight pieces of an argument floated through the lightly-insulated walls of our house. A short time later, a shot rang out throughout the neighborhood, and Nathan and I both dodged away from the window, sure that whoever had fired had missed and the bullet was heading for our house. Nothing came shooting through the walls, so we were safe. I breathed a sigh of relief, and I heard Nathan do the same next to me. He turned and grinned lopsidedly at me. It was such an unexpected thing to happen that I busted out laughing, but stopped quickly.

He didn't stop being like a mini version of my father, but from then on we had a cordial relationship. S'long as I followed the rules, we didn't argue. Better than it was before.


	3. Chapter 3

_((I really didn't want to use the N-word in this story, so I replaced it just with black. Hope that's OK with everyone))_

Days blended into weeks with nothing happening anywhere on the street. The kids went back and forth to school everyday, occasionally stopping to stare up at 'The Radley Place', and sometimes running past my house just like they always did. Always made my day, seeing them be able to run around like that. The cold snap soon ended, and all that Nathan came home talking about was Mr. Finch's trial coming up soon. Apparently he was defending a black man, Tom something or other. Tom Robinson...? That sounds right.

"What did he do, exactly?" I asked when Nathan came home with the date of the trial.

"Well, th' Ewells are sayin' that Tom Robinson...he...uh..." Nathan turned bright red, and I figured that whatever he was trying to say was one of the 'forbidden words'.

"Did what to who?" I asked. _I'll get it out of him eventually._

"Miss Mayelle!"

"Okay..." I figured which word he wasn't using. The all-terrible R-word. It's just a word, but since we were brought up as devout Baptists, some words didn't fit Father's criteria for how his sons should speak. "Tom apparently _raped_ her?" Nathan turned brighter red and looked at the floor.

"Yes." he whispered. I reached across the table and shook him.

"It's just a word, Nathan." I told him softly. "' 'Sides, Father's not around to tell you what you can or can't say no more."

"Yeah." I could tell the conversation was over, so I left.

--

Nathan left the next afternoon to watch the trial. I was sitting at the window when I saw the Finch kids and their friend, Miss Rachel's nephew. Charles, or something. They were sneaking out of Jeremy and Scout's house, and looked like they were trying to avoid someone. They weren't in front of my house, so I knew it wasn't me. I think it was likely Jeremy and Scout's aunt, or their cook. They were probably going to the trial. Lucky kids.

I went downstairs to eat, and then decided that I should make the best of my time while Nathan was gone. I took an old, worn copy of some book off the shelf. The title was so faded that it was impossible to read, and it was the one book I'd thought my father wouldn't notice missing. It held my scrapbook.

The only way I could keep up to date on things going on in Maycomb was reading the paper and hanging onto every word that Nathan said after his walks. I clipped out important news and put it in my scrapbook. I thought the trial deserved a page for itself, and so I pulled the paper out of the bin and sat at the table. A dark streak on the scissors caught my eye, and I held the scissors up to the light to see better. These were the same scissors that I'd used four or five years ago for the...incident. I was still angry all the time back then, and it'd gotten the better of me. Unfortunately, my mistake had gotten me two years locked up. I can't even bear to look out my window far enough to see the courthouse anymore. Too many bad memories.

I finished clipping the paper and gluing the articles into my book when I hear Nathan's key scrape in the lock. I just managed to stuff my book into the couch and sit on it when he comes in. I grab a nearby Bible and pretend to be reading it. We've got a surplus of them in this house.

"Hey, Arthur." He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up.

"Hey." I sit lower on the couch, hoping that the book won't make a lump in the cushion.

"Reading the good book, for once?" he asked, motioning to the Bible.

"What? Oh, uhm, yeah."

"That's good." He looked thoughtfully at the couch. "What're you sittin' on?" He moved toward the couch.

"Nothin'!" I sat cross-legged on top of the cushion, trying to make myself heavier.

"Lemme see it!" He pushed me off the couch, where I landed heavily on the floor.

"Ow!" He's got my book in his hand. _Sweet Mother Mary... _Nathan didn't like me keeping a scrapbook, especially after the incident. He thinks it's creepy to keep a book with blood on one of the pages. I cleaned up the blood awhile ago.

"What is this?" He hadn't opened it yet. _Yet._

" 'S nothin'! Give it back!" He opened it, and flipped through it. "Nathan..."

"You still got this? Thought I told you to toss it after what you did!"

"It wasn't my fault!"

"You stabbed him in the leg! How is that _not_ your fault?" I stood up and tried to get it but he jerked it out of my reach.

"'Cause he'd had it comin'!" Nathan looked at me, one eyebrow raised. Then he slowly and deliberately tore one of the pages out.

"_Hey_! That's _mine_!"

"Broke another rule. Lose this. Go to bed." He left, and the 'conversation' was cut off. Always had to get the last word in, my brother did. As usual, though, there was nothing better to do. So I did what he said. I went up to my room, to bed.


	4. Chapter 4

The results for the trial were in the paper the next morning. My eyes hungrily scanned the paper until I found what I was looking for. Nathan had refused to speak to me after our talk last night, and so I had to hear the judgement from an outside source. The sentence screamed up at me, it black coloring seeming to jump up.

_Robinson declared guilty of rape_, the _Mobile Register_ said. _Sentenced to the death penalty. Finch, his lawyer, had no comment on the verdict._

I couldn't believe it. I read the rest of the article, and I _still_ couldn't believe it! In my life, however sheltered and imprisoned it might have been, I'd never heard of Atticus Finch losing a trial. _Ever. _Nathan stumbled in, still looking bleary eyed from sleep. He muttered something and poured a cup of coffee.

"This true?" I asked, shoving the paper almost up his nose. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the text.

"Yup."

"How come? Mr. Finch never loses!"

"'S a losin' case t' start with, Boo." He didn't correct himself. "Can't win 'em all."

"Arthur." I said. "But then if it was a losin' case, why'd he take it?" Nathan shrugged. He's always so cheerful, especially first thing in the morning.

"S'not fair, though. If he weren't guilty, why'd he be set guilty?" My brother glared at me.

"Do we have to do this first thing in the mornin'?" I nodded. "Fine. He lost 'cause he's a black man. They don't ever get fair trials. There were Cunninghams on the jury, plus more country folk more prejudiced than us townspeople. Ewell's lawyer twisted Tom's story 'round so's it'd seem like he was guilty. I didn't like it. You've been in here for awhile, don't think you know exactly how bad the blacks are treated. Or maybe you do, they don't like you much either." Nathan finished and drank his coffee, watching me. He probably expected me to be angry about that the townsfolk don't like me, but I wasn't. I'd come to terms about that a long while ago. So I just shrugged, got myself a coffee, and went to watch out the window. Jeremy Finch was sulking in the yard. He kept glancing around, as if to make sure no one was watching. After he was sure, he knelt and wiped his eyes, and I realized he had been crying. I guessed he didn't like the results of the trial either, and probably more so than me. He got up, as if someone had called him, and returned to the house, wiping his face on his sleeve. _Poor kid. _Probably still thought his dad could do anything, but then he realized that even Atticus Finch is only human.

I was dozing in my chair one morning, near the window, when I heard shouting outside. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, and squinted out to the yard. Near the fence between ours and the Finch's Scout and Jeremy were either arguin or just talking about something. It was difficult to tell. Whatever it was, it seemed to involve Bob Ewell, and maybe Mr. Finch, because snatches of their conversation drifted in. Jeremy seemed to be telling Scout something that Mr. Ewell did to Mr. Finch. Whatever it was, it involved spitting. And more than a few heated words. I think they were reenacting it.

It didn't give me a good feeling.


	5. Chapter 5

Summer came and went, with few events. Tom Robinson's death was mentioned in the paper. He was shot trying to escape prison. I think seventeen bullets is a bit of overkill to rid of an escapee. Since my scrapbook had been taken, I couldn't make a page for that. I felt it deserved one. Too bad Nathan hadn't deemed it fit to return yet.

Autumn came, along with the return of the daily walk past the Radley Place. Scout mostly seemed curious about my house now, and occasionally stopped to stare thoughtfully up at the house. I always ducked into the shadow of the curtains when she did. Jeremy had moved up into the higher school, and they walked separately. He usually just walked by without seeming to notice my house was there. The place that had captivated the imagination of he, his sister, and his friend was becoming a piece of the scenery, just another piece of a childhood soon left behind. Rarely, though, he would stop, turn, put his hands in his pockets, tilt his head back, and just stare up at my house. He usually stared for a while, then sighed and continued on his walk.

There was an announcement in the paper about some pageant going on at the high school at the end of October. The lower school students were performing in it. I smiled when I saw that Jean Louise Finch was going to be playing the part of "Pork/Ham". I convinced Nathan to go and enjoy himself for once, and oddly, he seemed to be looking forward to going.

"Haven't been in the high school in years, should be interesting to see how it's changed," he told me when he finally gave in.

"Oh, come on, you know you're looking forward to seeing the rest of the town. I know I would be!" He gave me a look, as if he could sense I was going to ask if I could come too. I already _knew_ that answer. "Wasn't going to ask, wasn't going to ask." He rolled his eyes. I coughed. Loudly.

"Y'okay? Doesn't sound good." Nathan looked worried, but when I told him it was just a fall cold he looked a bit relieved. I chose not to tell him that the 'fall cold' hadn't been going away for a few weeks, or that I haven't been as...well I've never been energetic, but lately even less so. Lack of sunlight and movement probably started it. What most people take for granted. What I didn't like was how awful the coughs were, they shook me completely, waking me up in the middle of the night or forcing me back to my chair, or to drink copious amounts of water after.

" 'S fine. Be over in a week. Get out now!" I told him, shoving him out the door on the night of the pageant. He'd wanted to stay to 'watch' me, but I was looking forward to a night of my own. After he left, I went quickly to the window to watch for Scout and Jeremy to pass by. They did soon after Nathan left. Jeremy was carrying an awkward piece of...something. It looked like Scout's costume. They paused in front of my house, and Jeremy said something that made Scout laugh, then look apprehensive. They continued, and I wish I could see the performance. My girl would probably look cute in her ham costume.

I often regret the mistakes I made when I was younger, that prevent me from seeing community events like pageants.


	6. Chapter 6

I must have drifted to sleep while waiting for Jeremy and Scout to come back, because when I was jolted awake, it was dark out and Nathan's jacket was hanging on the hook by the door. I wasn't sure what had woken me until I examined the night more and saw the outline of two figures running by, closely followed by a third, who was running a bit too close. Their follower looked kind of, well, intoxicated, and I found myself on my feet. I'd stayed in this house too long. There were children who might be in trouble, and the rest of the street looked nearly uninhabited. I doubted anyone would be coming to help them. I hurried to the front door and paused. Making up my mind, I went back to the kitchen and took a knife from the rack. _Hope it's unnecessary. _

When I opened the door, I looked back up the stairs. I didn't want Nathan following me. Luckily, his bedroom door looked tightly closed, so I went out into the fresh night air. My ears pricked up when I heard the sounds of a fight from the oak on the edge of my property, and I ran to there. My 'fall cold' was already tiring me out. A sickening crunch, followed by a scream and a grating of metal on metal made me quicken my pace. I skidded to a halt at the bottom of the tree, spraying sand everywhere. A lump wriggled back and forth, yelling, and I took that to be Scout in her pork costume. The man who'd been following them suddenly wrapped his arms around the middle of her costume, and began _squeezing. _ She gasped and I grabbed his shoulders and flung him away from Scout. She stumbled away and landed nearby. The man tried to get up and attack her again, but I tackled him and we crashed into the base of the tree. I saw a flash of silver and there was a knife in his hand. _I am goin' t' die. _

Wait! I had a knife tucked in my belt, a big sharp one! I I shifted my weight so he was pinned more, and went for my knife. He tried to kick me, and landed a good one on my back. Luckily I got the knife in time and swiftly drove it into something soft. _Thank God..._

The man groaned, and a cloud of putrid whiskey breath wafted up and filled my nose. I quickly shoved myself off the man and away. I coughed, a worse one than usual and I sank against the tree for support. Scout wriggled out of her costume and looked up, startled by the noise. She couldn't see me well, I think, as her eyes were used to light. I saw Jeremy crumpled in a heap a few feet away. His arm was bent out at a crazy angle, and I think that was the crunch I'd heard earlier. I went over and lifted him up. It was a struggle, as I wasn't strong. I tried to have his good arm over my shoulder and we'd walk, but that didn't work so I just put his legs over my arm and carried him. He was heavier than I thought, and I staggered trying to run toward the Finch's house while also trying not to jostle his arm. I could hear Scout's bare feet padding on the pavement behind me. As soon as my foot hit the top step on their porch, the door banged open and Mr. Finch stood in the doorway, framed by the warm glow from inside. His face registered surprise when he saw me, but the he came and helped me carry Jeremy up to his room and lay him on the bed. Another bang and Mr. Finch rushed downstairs. I guessed Scout had arrived home. There was a lot of talking, and then Doctor Reynolds came in.

I drew into the shadow of the dresser, leaned against it, and crossed my arms to observe, like I always am. Scout came flying into the room, and was gently reprimanded for trying to touch Jeremy. She crawled into Mr. Finch's lap and told her side of the story. Occasionally her eyes would flit over to where I was, but I tried to avoid eye contact by fixedly staring at the wall above the bed. When Mr. Tate, the sheriff, asked her who'd been the one to help her and her brother, asked her the name of their 'rescuer', she looked right at me. I nervously uncrossed my arms and put my hands against the wall. Her arm raised to point and my hands slid, catching me off balance. I could feel the sweat on my hands, and I hurriedly wiped them on my pants and then stood there awkwardly.

"S'him right there! Why dontcha ask him yourself?" she said, her finger pointing at me. I stared at the finger pointing at me, and she quickly lowered it. The whole room turned to look at me, except Jeremy of course. _I want to leave._ I resisted the urge to turn away and look at the corner. Never have been good around people. In the mirror opposite the wall I was leaning against, I saw a man. He was startlingly pale, with short, dark hair sticking up all over the place, and there was fear shining in his eyes. That man was me. I also noticed a rip in my-wait, this is Nathan's shirt. _Damn. _

Realization dawned on Scout's face as she looked me up and down. I felt exposed, vulnerable, open.

"Hey, Boo," she said. The hated name didn't sound as terrible coming from the mouth of a child as it did from an adult. Mr. Finch corrected her on my name.

"Jean Louise, this is Mr. Arthur Radley. I believe he already knows you." She blushed, and I attempted to smile at her, but only managed a weak upturn of the corners of my mouth. She covered her mistake by trying to rearrange the blankets on her brother. Again she was chided. I felt another coughing fit approaching, and I managed to quell it, and it gave me a mild spasm. _Fantastic, Arthur. Make everyone here think you've got mental issues. The town thinks you're weird enough as is._ _Now they'll think you've got the shakes and twitches too._ My ears burned. I tried to smile, and this time I think I actually did.

Dr. Reynolds came back. "Satisfied he's alive, now?" he asked Scout. She nodded. He turned to put the package he had on the dresser and saw me. "Oh! Evenin', Arthur, didn't see ya the first time I was in here." I nodded. I didn't trust myself to speak, I hadn't been around this many people in years. The doctor started to clear everyone out, and I looked down to find Scout tugging on my shirtsleeve.

"C'mon, Mr. Arthur, you don't know the house real well. I'll take you to the porch." Again I nodded, and followed her outside. She led me to a rocking chair in the shadow of the porch, and sat next to me. I was grateful for being out of sight from Mr. Finch and Mr. Tate. Immediately Mr. Finch began planning how to defend Jeremy.

"A clear-cut case of self-defense, but still..." Mr. Tate looked confused, then interrupted.

"You think Jem stabbed Ewell?" Mr. Finch nodded, barely distracted from his plans.

"Yes. Anyway-"

"Ewell fell on his knife." I looked up, startled. Why was Mr. Tate defending me? I'd never done anything for him before, I thought. "Fell on his knife an' it killed him." Mr. Finch looked surprised at first, then his face cleared and he shook his head.

"I'm not letting anyone cover this up, Heck."

"It's not covering it up. Ewell fell on his knife."

They continued to argue for a few minutes, and Mr. Tate got up to demonstrate how Ewell could have killed himself falling on his knife. _ I am going to be forever thankful to him. But why's he defending me?_ For the life of me I couldn't figure it out. The two of us hadn't really gotten along back in school, just acquaintances, but...oh. That's why.

_"Hey, come on, guys, let him down." I said. I was tired of seeing my friends pick on the weirdos._

_ "Aw, c'mon, Arthur, it's just friendly!" Walter protested. I stood there angrily. He sighed and motioned to the others. "All right, fine." They dropped the kid on his back and walked off, muttering._

_ "Y'all right?" I asked, helping him up._

_ "Yeah, I guess." Heck stood up and walked off. "Thanks, Arthur."_

_ "Yeah."_

I guess his debt's been paid, now. Heck snapped me out of my nostalgia when he stomped his foot on the porch.

"I may not be much, Mr. Finch, but I'm still sheriff of Maycomb County and Bob Ewell _fell_ on his knife!" If they'd been talking louder, Heck would've been shouting. He lowered his voice. "And it's yer word against mine if this goes t' court, Atticus. It'd be a right sin t' drag this man and his shy ways into the limelight. Every woman in the town, my wife included, would be showin' up at his doorstep with angel food cakes! Would y' really put him through that, Atticus?" Mr. Finch lowered his head. Heck's tone got softer.

"C'mon, Atticus."

Mr. Finch sighed and looked out into the street. He rubbed the back of his neck and watched Scout for a little bit.

"Right. Bob Ewell fell on his knife," he finally said.

"Thanks, Atticus. See ya tomorrow." Heck turned and left. Mr. Finch paced for a moment, then Scout ran up to him and he held her close. I looked away. She whispered something to him, and he looked a bit more cheered up. They looked over at me, and Mr. Finch set Scout down.

"Thank you, Arthur, thank you for my children." _Just doin' my duty, sir._ I blinked, and he went inside. Scout turned back to me and watched me get up. I coughed, which forced me to sit down again, and I wiped my mouth. _This cold's goin' to be the death of me._ I stood up again, and gingerly touched the railing of the porch and looked out to the tree where the fight had been. I went over to Scout and motioned with my head to the general direction of inside. She looked confused, then understood.

"You wanna go say good night to Jem, Mr. Arthur?" I nodded. "Well, c'mon, then." She headed inside and we went up to Jeremy's room again. I stood next to her while her aunt told her something, but when they continued talking I went closer to the bed and peered at Jeremy. _ How come someone'd try and hurt kids like them? They don't do anything except be themselves and act like kids should. More than I was allowed to do._

I raised my hand, wanting to make contact with the children who had brightened my otherwise dull life. Afraid of overstepping myself, I lowered it again.

"S'okay, you can pet him if ya want." Scout was at my elbow, and had slipped her hand into mine. "If he was awake, he wouldn't let ya, but since he's asleep it's okay." _Pet him?_

I lifted my hand again and gently touched the side of his head. I tightened my grip on her hand, and looked down at her.

"W-will you take me home?" I asked quietly. She nodded, and we left. Along the way, she instructed me to put my arm through hers instead. I was confused at first, and then remembered that Stephanie Crawford had probably heard the commotion and was more than likely watching hawkishly out her window, looking for any disturbance. She escorted me up the stairs to my porch, where I let go of her arm and opened the door to go inside. I wanted to say something more meaningful to her besides "Will you take me home?", but I chickened out and just went inside. I saw her walk around the porch and stand on the edge for a minute, then leave. I watched her go.

I'd never get the courage to go out and see other people again. Once in a while, I'd venture out for walk, always at midnight, always staying out of sight. I couldn't get out of the habits forced upon me by my parents. Too scared.

_((Well that's all! This was a much longer chapter than expected! Please R&R and thanks for reading!))_


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